Fierce as Fire
by needle1231
Summary: Deep in the woods, the Freedom Fighters wage their own war against the Fire Nation. After losing her entire family, Katara finds a new place and purpose fighting alongside Jet, Zuko, and the other Fighters. AU Jetara/Zutara
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first fanfic! It's AU. Katara and Zuko are part of Jet's Freedom Fighters and they wage their own war against the Fire Nation. Let me know what you think!

I

_Quiet as air. Strong as earth. Swift as water. Fierce as fire._

Katara repeated the mantra in her head. Crouched hidden in the thick forest undergrowth, she watched as the lone soldier wandered dangerously close to her hiding place. He was lost. She could tell from the way his head spun to and fro as he tried to pick out a path or familiar tree that would lead him back to his encampment.

_ Quiet as air._

She took an arrow from the quiver on her back and nocked it in her wooden bow. The man was no more then ten feet away now. His metal armor clanked with each step he took. The Fire Nation insignia glistened on his breast.

_ Strong as earth._

She drew the string of her bow back and inhaled silently.

_ Swift as water._

As she exhaled, she loosed the arrow and it found its mark in the man's neck, where the armor proved weak. He fell to his knees, his hands at his throat as he choked on his blood. And then he fell to the ground with a final clank.

Katara smirked at her quick work. She had but a moment to savor her triumph before she heard a footstep behind her. Her smile vanished. In a fluid motion, she spun quickly and nocked another arrow in her bow. But she was one against three.

"Drop your bow," the man closest to her commanded.

He was armed with a sword and a menacing glint to his eye. His two comrades stood a step behind him on either side, each armed with a loaded longbow of their own. These men wore no armor to clank and clatter as they hiked through the wood. She hadn't heard them approach until it was too late. And now Katara was outnumbered.

He repeated his command and took a step forward.

Katara obliged, relaxing her arm and dropping the bow and arrow to the ground. She raised her hands over her head.

"There's a good girl," the man said, the corner of lips curling into an ugly smile.

It happened so quick that Katara barely had time to think. Two arrows came whistling from the treetops to bed themselves in the flesh of the two archers.

_ Fierce as fire, _Katara reminded herself as the swordsman rushed at her.

He swung sideways, but she ducked swiftly and he ran past her. Before he even had time to turn, she pulled the dagger from her belt and flung it, her arm extending to guide the blade to its target. It buried itself between the attacker's shoulders, but that was not enough to stop him. He spun on her and swung furiously, each swing forcing Katara back as she tried to dodge each blow. Her back hit a tree and she slid to the ground just before the steel splintered the bark where her head had been not a moment before. She felt the bite of metal at her head but had no time to think about it.

_ Fierce as fire, _she repeated as her leg kicked out and knocked the man's feet out from under him. He fell sideways and collapsed to the ground with a groan. Katara moved quickly, wrenching the sword from his grip while he was still too stunned to realize what was happening. She slammed the point down into his throat and it was done.

She fell back against the tree, breathing heavily, watching as blood spilled from the man's neck. She heard feet land on the ground next to her and jumped at the sound, but it was only Jet.

"Gods that was good, Katara," he said as he offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. "That. Was. Good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed the show," she said, still trying to catch her breath.

Another pair of feet dropped from the trees. This time, it was Zuko. He picked up her bow from where she had surrendered it.

"You're hurt," he said as he handed it to her.

Just as he said it, she felt blood trickle down her brow like a tear. Her hand went to her head and came back bloody.

"Just a cut," she said.

They took what money, clothes, and weapons they could from the bodies before hanging all four of them in a neat row along a sturdy enough branch.

"Next time I want tree duty and one of you fools can take the ground," Katara said as they made their way back home.

"A king does not stoop to do a peasant's work," Jet teased, feigning a nobler accent than his own.

That earned him a punch in the arm.

They reached home just before nightfall. A stranger might have thought them mad for the way they sighed relief as if they'd finally made it to the hearth. But there was not a house or a structure of any sort within sight. It just looked like any other part of the forest. Tall trees grew from the earth, their thick foliage blocking out any glimpse of the sky. A blanket of leaves covered the soil, dead and brown. But when Jet whistled thrice, three ropes swung to the ground. There was a loop at the bottom of the rope where Katara placed her foot. She coiled the rope around her hand and gave it a strong tug and was pulled up into the canopy.

Far above the forest floor, a camp was floated atop the leaves. Planked landings wrapped themselves around the thick trunks of trees, connected by swaying rope bridges and stairs carved into the trees themselves. Small wooden houses were nestled lush beds of leaves. And in the middle of it all was a long platform where people were gathering with food and drink.

Katara stepped from her hempen transport to a wooden landing.

"I'm starving," Jet announced as he appeared next to her.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and they walked together across the bridge to the main platform.

They were greeted excitedly as they joined their companions at the table. The Freedom Fighters is what they called themselves. They were a ragtag group of fourteen, ranging in age from Duke (Or "The Duke" as he would so adamantly remind you) at ten years to Jet who was twenty and one. The table was low, so they sat on the ground. Katara folded her legs under her as she and Jet were bombarded with questions about that day's work. She answered their questions with a smile, relating the details of the fight, and perhaps adding a few details of her own. Concerns were expressed about the cut on her head but she assured them it was nothing and that she would clean it up once her belly was full. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zuko enter and take a seat at the far end of the table where the yellow glow from the lanterns and the eager questions barely reached him. He smiled at her.

"Alright, alright!" Jet said, stepping onto the table.

The Freedom Fighters fell silent for their leader.

"You guys are making a big deal out of nothing," he insisted, but his confident grin was plastered onto his face. "All we did was take out a few Fire Nation pawns. Poor guys probably didn't even know where they were." He paused. The silence was one of anticipation. "But then we hung their bodies from the branches and now they know where they are!" The Freedom Fighters roared. "This is our land!"

"Our land!" the Fighters echoed.

"Our land!" Katara joined them, raising her cup.

They fell silent again. Jet began thumping his fist against his chest and the rest mirrored him. They started slow and steady and progressively got faster and faster until they erupted into triumphant howls.

"Let's eat!" Jet exclaimed as he hopped down from the table.

The Fighters helped themselves to rabbit meat stew, fish caught from a nearby river, bread baked with flour stolen from a Fire Nation camp, and an array of nuts and berries. Their cups were filled with water for the younger ones and Fire Nation ale for the elders. They ate, they sang, they were merry. One would never think that they were a group of kids caught in a war.

Katara stole away from the festivities early, making excuses about her head. Truthfully, she just wanted to escape for a moment of peace. She walked slowly back to the hut she shared with Jet, savoring the feel of the warm summer night. She pushed aside the canvas door to the hut and ducked inside. She lit a few candles so the small room was dimly illuminated. The low cot in the center of the room dominated most of the space. Aside from the bed, the only other pieces of furniture were two small tables fashioned from tree stumps. There were a hooks nailed into the wall where she hung her bow, quiver, and sheath belt. Then she went to the cot and pulled a box that contained her few belongings. Underneath her extra clothes, she found a blue necklace.

It was a simple thing, a circular pendant with waves carved into it strung on faded blue ribbon. But when she picked up the necklace, she felt a thousand memories of lost days rush back to her. She could hear the roar of waves, the crunching of snow beneath her boots, her brother's jests, her mother's singing, her father's throaty chuckle. Faint memories that grew fainter with each passing year. At nineteen years, she could barely remember the faces of her family, nor could she conjure up a clear picture of what her childhood home had been like. All she could remember was that she came from a place far from where she was now, where her people had lived on ice instead of in trees.

She fastened the necklace around her neck and then dug an old looking glass from the box. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, licked her thumb, and smudged away the dried blood on her brow. She studied her features, wondering if she had her mother's eyes or her father's chin. She wondered what they would think of her now. She hoped they would be proud. Proud that she was avenging their deaths with every Fire Nation soldier she slew.

"Do you miss it?" a voice asked from the door.

She tilted the glass to the side so she could see who it was.

"Zuko." She placed the mirror down and unfastened the necklace before standing to face him.

"I'm sorry," he said, glancing down at his feet. "I should have knocked. I wanted to make sure you were alright." He motioned to her head.

She smiled. Zuko had the look of a man; his features were hard, his amber eyes fierce, and he had a scar that spread across nearly half his face from a burn sustained as a child. He was intimidating to anyone who did not know his soft heart and shy disposition.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "What did you ask? Before…?"

"Do you miss your home?"

She sighed and shrugged. "To be honest, I don't think I remember it enough to miss it. And besides, this is my home now," she added with a smile.

He nodded in an understanding way.

"Do you need help with your head?"

"I'll manage. Thank you."

Another nod and then he left.

She sat on the bed and opened her fist to look once more at the necklace.

"This is my home now," she repeated to herself.

She placed the necklace back in its box and slid it under the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey! Here's another chapter! Please forgive any typos, I tend to edit _after _I've posted which probably isn't the best habit but oh well. Anyway, let me know what you think. Leave a review of your thoughts and ideas :)

II

Zuko woke before the sun every morning.

In the dusky dark of dawn, he dressed in his loose, threadbare clothing. His twin broadswords rested at the foot of his bed. He slung the sheath across his shoulder and ducked out of his room.

When he reached the platform where the Fighters came and went from their camp, he could not go down by the usual rope, for there was no one to pull the rope back up to camp after him. Instead, he eased himself over the edge of the platform, clinging to the wood with both hands before dropping down to a land on a branch. He continued down to the forest floor in a similar fashion, plunging from branch to branch, his feet landing on each tree limb with a practiced silence. Once his feet touched the earth, he straightened his sheath on his back and hiked off into the wood.

The cliff was conveniently close to camp but far enough that none of the others would stumble upon him. Beneath the cliff was the roaring river from which they fished and collected water for drinking. On the horizon, he could see the sun begin to rise. Its light was no wider than the width of one of his broadswords, but it would grow. He unslung his sheath and hung it on a nearby branch. He emerged from the trees, onto the clear, open space of the cliff. He listened to the river run beneath him and watched the sun rise higher into the air, its warmth spreading across his skin and renewing his vitality.

As the sky bloomed into shades of pink and orange, he dropped into a low stance and inhaled deeply. He thrust his fist out and from his knuckles emerged a burst of hot flame. He recoiled his hands back into his chest with a sweeping motion and took another deep breath. This time, he punched both fists out, one after the other. The flames they produced lingered a second in the air, and before they were extinguished, he used a gentle swoop of both his hands to guide the flame like water over his shoulders. The hot ring circled around his head once, twice, following his hands like a faithful dog. He lunged to the side, shooting the flame in a straight line down the length of his extended arm. It rushed like lightning into the air and dissolved away to nothingness.

He continued through his forms until the sun had fully risen and his body was drenched in sweat. Then, he climbed down to the river and bathed in the cool water. On his way back to camp, he checked a few traps he had set up and collected a few rabbits out of it.

When he got back to camp, it was already bustling with activity. Freedom Fighters yawned as they prepared for the day. Some sat around the table on the main platform, eating breakfast and sharpening weapons. Others busied themselves with their morning tasks. Zuko bid good morning to Pipsqueak, who was of the same age as Zuko but three times the size which made his name as humorous as it was unfitting. The large youth was repairing one of the platforms. Zuko made his way over a rope bridge and up a few stairs to the cooking platform.

It was a small platform with a cook fire in the middle, a long table along one side and a series of covered metal crates for storage along the other. Meg, a baker's daughter, managed the kitchen with two or three helpers. She had brown eyes and a sweet smile, but she could just as easily cut a man's heart out as she could chop vegetables. That was the funny thing about most Fighters. No matter their trade or background, the war had made skilled fighters of them all.

"Good morning," Meg said. She was kneading dough.

"Morning, Meg," Zuko said as he grabbed a small knife.

He found an empty patch of floor and plopped to the ground with his rabbits. As he began to skin them, he felt someone approach from behind and sit next to him. It was The Duke, Meg's little brother. He watched Zuko's process for a moment before pulling a little knife of his own and cutting into a rabbit. He managed to do a decent job at skinning the creature, but in the time it had taken him, Zuko had finished off the rest.

"Not bad for a first try," Zuko said, collecting all the rabbits by their feet and laying them on the table for Meg to cut and cook.

Zuko made his way out of the kitchen with The Duke following close behind.

"What are you doing today?" The Duke asked. He wore a helmet that was a few sizes too big for him and every time he looked up at Zuko it threatened to slip off his head.

"Rope duty," Zuko replied, scrunching his face up to show his displeasure for the boring task.

"Can I help?" The Duke asked eagerly.

"Duke!" they heard Meg calling from the kitchens. "Come back here! I need you to stir the stew!"

"Meg's going to cut you up and put you in the stew," Zuko teased.

The Duke shook his head. "No she says I wouldn't taste very good. Can I help you?"

Zuko looked down at him and smiled. "Sure."

"Duke!" they heard Meg shout again.

"It's The Duke, Meg!" the boy screamed back before running to catch up with Zuko.

The day went by slow, as it always did when one was charged with managing the comings and goings of the Fighters. You sat around waiting for the whistle that signaled someone needed to get back to camp. Then you dropped a rope or two and pulled the waiting Fighters back to camp. Zuko was glad to have The Duke for company. He let the boy help him pull ropes back into camp, although Zuko ended up doing most of the work.

Zuko showed The Duke how to carve dragons out of broken branches. They spent most of their day with their feet dangling over the sea of leaves and knives methodically chipping away at pieces of wood. That's how Katara found them. It was evening and most of the Fighters were gathering on the main platform for dinner.

"Still waiting on some?" Katara asked a she sat cross-legged behind the two.

She had three bowls of stew balanced in her arms. Zuko swung his legs back onto the platform and took one of the bowls. The Duke mimed his movements.

"I think it's just Smellerbee and Longshot left," Zuko replied, bringing a spoonful of stew to his lips.

Katara nodded. "They shouldn't be much longer."

Zuko noticed the bandage on her head.

"How's your head?"

"You worry too much, honestly." Katara grinned. "I've had worst scratches than this."

"How much worse?" The Duke inquired, wide-eyed and curious.

Katara and Zuko laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm gonna be honest here, I have no clue where this story is going. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Reviews are appreciated!**

In her dreams, she was a wolf.

Fierce and fast, she ran across a smooth expanse of snowy plain. She was willed on by the scent of prey and the promise of blood and flesh. The biting wind dragged icy fingers through her thick coat. But she could barely feel it, for the wild blood that coursed through her veins was hotter than fire compared to the cold of the tundra. Her brothers and sisters were all around her. She could hear their snarling breaths and yips of excitement. She could see the elk now. Her and her pack were gaining fast on the hooved beasts. She lifted her head to give a short howl before her paws dug into the snow and she prepared to leap and then…

"Katara."

She was jolted out of her dreams by someone shaking her shoulder. She turned and saw Jet. He was dressed, which was odd considering that it was the dead of night.

"What?" She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "What is it?"

"Get dressed," he said. "And arm yourself."

He kissed her and ducked out of the room.

She did as he said and stepped out onto the landing outside their room. Zuko was waiting there.

"Where's Jet?" Katara asked as she adjusted her quiver on her back.

Zuko's face was grim when he said, "Follow me."

"Is he alright?" Katara said worriedly as she quickened her pace to keep up with his long strides.

"He's fine," Zuko insisted. "Just follow me."

They silently made their way to the main platform, which was supported on one side by an old and tall oak. Carved into the trunk of the tree were footholds that they used to climb up and up. Katara's arms ached by the time she reached the top. She planted her feet in the crook of one of the tree's many limbs and wrapped her arm around another branch to steady herself from a gust of wind. High above the forest, she felt like she was standing on the shoulders of giants. If it had been day, she could have seen for miles and miles around her. But in the moonless night, she could barely see a foot in front of her.

The only thing she could distinguish was the tall tower of flame reaching for the sky.

The fire was only a few miles to the east from their camp, which meant it had to be coming from…

"Ongaku," Zuko said, as if reading her mind.

Ongaku: the small village by the river. It was a quiet village, but the people were warm and stout of heart. Katara had often wandered through to trade her healing skills for food and supplies for the Fighters.

There will be no healing this wound, she thought as she watched the flames.

"Who did this?" Katara's voice shook as she asked the question.

"Who do you think?" Zuko replied. His voice was low and sorrowful. "This is the Fire Nation's work."

Katara swore she could hear the cries of villagers on the wind.

"Is Jet down there?" Katara asked. She turned her head to see Zuko nod.

"We have to help," she said.

She began to climb down the tree but Zuko grabbed her arm.

"No. You can't go," he said.

"I can't go? Says who?"

"Jet. He said to keep you here."

"There are people burning. They need our help!"

"And why do you think they're burning?" His face was solemn but his amber eyes were as bright as the fire. "The Fire Nation knows you help them. They set fire to the village because they know you will rush to Ongaku's aid."

"Well, for once they're right about something." She ripped her arm from his grip and resumed the climb down.

"It's a trap, Katara!"

She ignored him.

"Katara, they'll catch you!"

She ignored him again.

Instead of another ineffective attempt to stop her, Katara heard him sigh a frustrated sigh. And then she heard the leaves rustle as Zuko climbed down after her.

* * *

There was no sign of Fire Nation soldiers. They had torched the village and then left it to burn. The small, thatched huts had been perfect kindling for their vehement destruction.

Katara and Zuko had found a small group of villagers on the outskirts of the devastation. They were the survivors, little as they were. They huddled together and mourned their loss of home and their loss of kin.

With hands gloved in water, Katara used her healing abilities to tend to burns and other wounds. Zuko patrolled around the group, keeping watch for Fire Nation soldiers.

"Where's Jet?" Katara asked as she felt Zuko's presence behind her.

She ran her glowing hands over the forearm of an elderly woman, soothing and cleansing the burn.

"He hasn't returned yet," Zuko replied.

A long time had passed since Jet had ventured into the flames to make certain no villagers had been left behind. Katara had begun to worry, and when she stood to face Zuko, she saw the same concern writ upon his face. But just as their worries began to fester, they heard a call and saw Jet limp from the smoke and fire. The hem of his pants had been singed away so the flames could lick at the skin of his leg. In his arms he held bundle. When Katara and Zuko rushed to his side, they saw the bundle was a little girl with soot-stained cheeks. She was alive. She clung to Jet as if her life had depended on it, which evidently it had.

"There's another one," Jet coughed. "Another girl. In the painted hut."

Katara didn't wait a moment longer before sprinting off into the village.

"Katara!" she heard Jet shout from behind her, but she didn't pay him any mind.

She nearly ran past the painted hut, for the walls had been almost completely swallowed by the blazes. The door had been kicked down, but a new door had been erected out of fire. She leaped through and into the smoke-filled house.

The smoke made her eyes water and burn.

"Hello?" she called.

The only answer she got was the crackling of fire. She walked carefully through the house. Each step she took made her feel like she was venturing further and further into an oven. This house was larger than the rest, with four rooms rather than just one. There were three doors at the back, leading to the other rooms.

"Hello?" she called again, louder this time.

She made for the first door, intent on checking each room when…

"Help!" was the panicked response.

The voice had come from the last door.

"I'm coming in!" Katara said as she brought the door down with a strong kick.

Thankfully, the fire had not yet reached this room. She found the girl huddled in the corner of the room, clutching a doll in her tiny fist.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Katara promised.

She stooped to pick up the girl, but the child squirmed away.

"Come on," Katara coaxed.

The girl's eyes filled with tears and she began to cry.

"I'm scared," she sobbed.

"There's nothing to be scared of. It's just a little fire," Katara insisted. Her forehead was dripping with sweat and she could barely see through her watering eyes, but she managed a reassuring smile.

A crash came from the other room as something fell. It didn't help her cause.

The girl screamed and tried to dart under the bed, but Katara caught her hand and scooped her into her arms. A soothing hand in the child's hair was enough to mollify her for the moment. With quick strides, Katara made for the door. She could see the village street from between strands of flame. She was almost there…

A resonating crack was heard. The girl let out a yelp and Katara started to run for the door. Like a beast of burden being relieved of its load, the house seemed to sigh as the roof came crashing down.


End file.
